The Perks of Being Sixteen
by paperplane
Summary: Alright, so she’s a little angry. She’s sixteen... she’s allowed to be a little emotional. Especially when the gods are against her and her mum tells her she has anger issues. She reasons she has every right to be a tad insane. JL.
1. The Torture that is Lily Evan’s Life

**The Perks of Being Sixteen**

**Summary**: Alright, so she's a little angry. She's sixteen; she's allowed to be a little emotional. Especially when she has a best friend who won't get off her back about a certain wizard, all the gods who want to put her together with said wizard, the certain wizard who keeps acting strange, and a mum who tosses her a notebook instead of taking the time to listen to what she has to say. She reasons she has every right to be just a tad insane. J/L.

* * *

**Chapter 1: **The Torture that is Lily Evan's Life

* * *

_September 1 1975  
Train Compartment 10  
10:04 AM_

My mum gave me this journal. She says, and I quote, "Darling, you have some pent up anger."

It's nice to know my own mum has at least a semblance of interest in my life_. Darling, you have some pent up anger_. _Write down your feelings. It'll help you feel better_. I resisted the urge to throw said notebook at her head.

Ellie grinned broadly when she hears of my mum's present. She snorted, "Some anger? _Some_? Really?

"It's not funny."

"I'm not laughing," she said, suddenly seriously, "but you know what I heard? There was this witch in London who was under this tremendous pressure with her job, but she refused to get angry, and all the anger inside of her built up and built up and one day she blew up to twice her size and floated away. No one ever saw her again."

She paused dramatically, "That could be you! You can be my friend who blew up in anger and was never saw again! I'm sure that'd get you an article in The Daily Prophet."

I resisted the urge to throw notebook at her head.

I do not have incontrollable anger. I am the most compliant person I know. _I am nice to everyone_.

A certain James Potter not included.

_11:00 AM_

The inevitable James Potter conversation #1:

Ellie prattled, "I think you _fancy_ him. Sitting in a tree, snogging senseless, marriage, baby pram sort of fancy."

"Are you sure you aren't James Potter secretly disguised using a carefully brewed polyjuice potion? Where did the sudden Potter arrogance come from?"

"Lily and James sitting in a tree… S-N-O-G-I-N-G."

"Snogging has two g's."

"It didn't fit the bloody rhyme."

The inevitable James Potter conversation #2:

"Have you kept in touch with him over the summer?"

"Why in the world would I do that?"

"Because I heard a nasty rumour that you two were caught shagging passionately in the broom closet at the end of last year and you got pregnant and the two of you had to get married in a secret ceremony even though both your families hated each other and James manages to kill someone of importance and got banished and you pretended to be dead to bring him back and…"

Ellie took a giant breath.

"…he thought you were really dead and took a potion and slaughtered himself but then you work up and realized what he did and in a fit of passionate dismay you killed yourself as well and it was all very romantic I heard."

Peach snickered quietly in the background. I am disappointed in her... I would have thought she would have at least tried to stop Ellie in her tirade.

"First, I am a VIRGIN, Ellie. V-I-R-G-I-N. No sex has been going on…"

"Or so you claim…"

"Second, do I look pregnant? Or for the matter of fact, _dead_?"

"Looks are deceiving," she chimed.

"Third, a good portion of that charming tale you told was in fact stolen from Romeo and Juliet."

"Wait a minute now—Shakespeare got the idea off _me_."

The inevitable James Potter Conversation #3:

"I don't think your mum knows what she is talking about. You express your anger very well. Especially towards a nice wizard by the name of _James Potter_."

"_Why_ do you insist on bringing him up? The gods are punishing me by sending you as my friend!"

"You complain about him a lot, you know," Ellie chuckled.

"_Brilliant_ deduction, Sherlock!"

She ignored me, "And there are some that say there's a fine line between love and hate."

"I am not one of those daft cows, Ellie," I deadpanned.

"Honestly Lily, don't vent your anger out on me."

"You _just said_ that I vented my anger out on Potter."

"Ah, I'm not going to talk to you if you're going to get into such a fit," she said smugly and the turned around. I can feel my mouth gape open as I sputtered indignantly.

I need to get new mates.

Particularly ones that are not mad.

Now I am on the train trying to ignore Ellie's loud snores. Every so often she snorts, and shuffles over and bangs her head against the wall, and then inadvertently manages to kick me (hence the weird marks all over the page). I feel some anger towards her. Do I write it down?

I am angry at Ellie.

Oh, I can feel enlightenment fall over me instantly. That helped a great deal. _Thanks mum_.

I don't have pent up anger.

It's most definitely at least pent up rage.

_11:14 AM_

Peach said that it doesn't work if I don't write down why I am angry at Ellie. I am angry at Ellie because she is a daft cow that thinks she knows all like that damnable James Potter.

_2:00 PM_

I figure my mum has it completely backwards. I'm bound to be a little angry. After all, I am sixteen, and being sixteen I am entitled to a little moodiness. I mean, think of all the things I have going on in my life…

1. My best friend thinks I'm in love with a wizard who is the prat of all prats.

2. Said arrogant prat probably despises me now because I dressed him down thoroughly after the Defense of Dark Arts O.W.L. (although I do not know why I care, but I'll chalk it up to delirium).

3. The gods are against me.

4. I just spilled pumpkin juice down my shirt.

5. I'm sitting in the dullest Prefects meeting in the world.

6. Remus Lupin keeps shooting me looks like I am the devil and will attack him at any time.

7. My mum would rather give me a notebook than talk to me about my feelings.

8. The Head Girl is currently giving me evil eye.

_The Great Hall  
7:30 PM_

Scene. It's a dark, stormy night. The rain is falling horizontally. The wet, bedraggled students pile into the Great Hall gasping in hunger and shivering from the chill in the air. The hall is candlelit, the light throwing deep shadows to the corners. I am sitting in a chair, back pressed against the high arch, hands clenched tightly onto the arms. Lightening flashes, thunder booms. The lightening illuminates the Hall briefly casting an electrifying mood into the air.

The milling and shuffling of the students get louder, and louder, the sound pressing on my ears until I feel as if I can no longer take it.

Silence. He appears, a bright spot in the midst of a dark crowd. He is walking towards me. The room spins. Lightening flashes. His hair has fallen in his eyes in a delicious manner. His eyes are dark; serious.

Lightening flashes again and my breath quickens; my heart races.

He reaches me. I feel like I am falling, falling into his eyes.

Then he says, "Can I have this chair?"

And I nod.

_8:00 PM_

Ellie says she thinks I'm insane but I can't really blame her. She has known me for six years, exactly. We met on the train to Hogwarts and we were instantly friends, even if she can be a little annoying, and even if I can be a little insane. (So she has been telling me since we've first met). We've been through thick and thin, bad accidents and happy accidents, crushes, uncrushes, heartache and heartbreak.

And I love her, I really do.

But she can be a giant prat when she wants to be.

Like when I told her I liked Michael Sawyer and she went and dropped little hints everywhere that I fancied him and then James Potter got wind of it and bothered me about it for weeks.

Or like now, when she had somehow managed to skillfully maneuver it so that Potter has a clear view of me throughout dinner and I'm so self conscious I keep looking up to see if he's staring at me and when I do catch him staring at me I look down quickly because I'm afraid he thinks I'm staring at _him_.

Although he's not hard on the eyes.

But I would never tell him that because his ego would get too big.

And I would never tell Ellie that because she would never let it go.

And I don't know why I even wrote that because James Potter is as big as a prat as Ellie and I don't like him in any way, even in a purely platonic way.

_8:30 PM_

Potter and his cronies just exploded the turkey. Prats.

_September 2 1975  
Transfiguration class  
9:25 AM_

**The Torture that is Lily Evan's Life  
**_A short play_

Scene I. Transfiguration room. First class of the year

Enter LILY, JAMES POTTER, SIRIUS, the resident arse, ELLIE, PEACH, THE EVIL PROFESSOR and THE GODS.

THE EVIL PROFESSOR:  
Welcome back to the wonderful world of magic and to your wonderful sixth year Transfiguration class! Lets all enjoy your last few moments of freedom before I rip you apart shred by shred and feed you to my eighty-pound cat, Wookie!

CLASS:  
We look forward to it, Evil Professor!

SIRIUS:  
Look at me, I'm an arse!

_Class laughs_.

CLASS:  
We love you, Sirius Black!

THE EVIL PROFESSOR:  
As you know, in sixth year, I, being the evil genius that I am, assign all of you a major project that is to be presented and handed in by the end of the year! Being the evil genius that I am I have decided to force you to work in pairs that I will choose because I am such an evil genius and I would like to torture you in anyway possible!

CLASS:  
We look forward to it, Evil Professor!

THE EVIL PROFESSOR:  
So I will pair you up now and assign you this project in which I plan to fail all of you no matter what!

JAMES POTTER:  
Evil Professor, I think if you want to be even more evil than you already are, you should pair me up with Lily Evans because that's a surefire way to be evil in the most evilest manner!

LILY:  
Please, gods, please be nice to me for once!

THE GODS:  
We spite you, Lily Evans!

ELLIE:  
Wouldn't it be just radical if she paired you up with James Potter?

PEACH:  
Now, now, I'm sure the Evil Professor can't be _that_ evil!

THE EVIL PROFESSOR:  
I agree James Potter! You and Lily Evans are partners! Spend as much time together as possible now or I shall fail you even more than you would've failed! Muahahahaha!

LILY: _Anguished.  
_Nooooooooooooooooo.

THE GODS:  
We spite you, Lily Evans!

JAMES POTTER:  
Excellent! I get to torture Lily for the rest of the year now! Muahahahaha!

SIRIUS:  
Look at me! I'm an arse!

_Class laughs._

THE EVIL PROFESSOR:  
Oh Sirius! We really do love you!

_Exit all._

Being sixteen does not have its perks. Being sixteen is like repeatedly stubbing your toe on a History of Hogwarts textbook, or bashing a hammer into your thumb a million times, or falling off a cliff and being impaled by that sharp jagged rock that just happens to be jutting out at the bottom erasing any chance of survival. Being sixteen is like _death_.

So, please excuse me now while I go bash my head repeatedly in the nearest wall.

* * *

**Notes**: My lame attempts to procrastinate from studying for exams. Read, review! Crap, uncrap? Delete, undelete? Did anyone even make it this far before falling asleep from boredom :P Let me know, I'm in desperate need for validation and an excuse to procrastinate. 


	2. It Could Be Worse

**The Perks of Being Sixteen **

**Summary**: Alright, so she's a little angry. She's sixteen; she's allowed to be a little emotional. Especially when she has a best friend who won't get off her back about a certain wizard, all the gods who want to put her together with said wizard, the certain wizard who keeps acting strange, and a mum who tosses her a notebook instead of taking the time to listen to what she has to say. She reasons she has every right to be just a tad insane. J/L.

**A/N:** Hey guys, thanks for the reviews! I'll pass out appreciation e-cookies later :D.

* * *

**Chapter 2:** It Could Be Worse

* * *

_9:35 AM_

It could be worse.

I could be paired with Severus Snape and be sitting across from a stink eyed, foul mouthed, greasy haired pathetic excuse for a wizard calling me mudblood every other sentence.

"Mudblood," he would say, "for this project I desire the least amount of communication between us as possible so I do not contaminate my full-bloodness with your foul, foul muggleborn blood. I will be doing all the work because you are a mudblood and cannot possibly be competent at anything. What can you do? You can sit there and try not to mess things up."

I could be paired with Sirius Black and be sitting across from an arrogant prick that can't seem to get his mind out of the gutter.

"Evans," he would say, "I know you want me, _you_ know you want me—don't even try to deny it now—and I must say, I'll be looking forward to all the time we will be spending together… _if you catch my drift_. You don't? Well, when we're not passionately shagging, we'd be passionately snogging, and when we're not passionately snogging or shagging—which I must say would be almost never—we'd be 'working' on our 'project'."

Complete with eyebrow waggling and obnoxious air quotes.

No, instead, I'm sitting across from _the James Potter_—as many of the witches in the younger years call him—silent. For almost a full ten minutes. Silence. Silence.

It is deafening, the silence. (Aside from the fact that the rest of the class was chattering noisily). WHY WON'T HE SAY ANYTHING?

_9:37 AM_

Peach got partnered with Sirius. I think he's waggling his eyebrows and making obnoxious air quotes.

_9:45 AM_

He still hasn't said anything. He's just staring out the shodding window. Frick, why won't he say anything?

_9:48 AM_

He can't still be mad about that incident can he? Because that would just be bloody Nancy of him.

_9:52 AM_

Ellie keeps looking over here and giving me that look. That smug look. I can just hear her now, in her excited breathy kind of voice. She'd lean forward, tilt her head to the side, her long brown hair would spill down the sides of the desk, and she would say, "Oh Lily…"

Because that's always how she begins her lectures.

"Oh Lily, I know you are not talking to him because you think that if you talk, you'd say something stupid and he'll never speak to you again, but I think he'd fancy you even if you rolled around in dragon dung daily, so you don't have to be afraid! Go talk to him!"

And then she'd thump the desk to make her point more emphatic, lean backwards in her chair, and look smug.

Yeah, it's that look.

It's not going to work. I'm not going to let Ellie get the best of me.

_9:55 AM_

Frick, I'm just going to say something.

_Potions  
11:16 AM_

It's Monday. I hate Mondays. It's Monday; it's raining, and I am trying to bore a hole through James Potter's head. Ellie told me just a minute ago that if looks could kill, mine would've done it. She's asking what's wrong, but I don't know if I should tell her because it would crush the romantic notions she had between me and James Potter.

I don't know why I even care.

The class went horrible. I don't know why I opened my mouth in the first place. It was obvious he didn't want to speak to me.

The thing about me is that when I am sitting next to someone I know I have to talk to them. I can't not talk to them… it's awkward. I can feel the awkwardness seeping into my skin when I don't—sit next to someone and not talk to them that is—and all my insides are just squirming and I want the other person to just say something. Anything.

But James Potter can't read minds. And James Potter probably wouldn't say anything even if he could, because James Potter hates my insides.

He told me so himself. He took one good look at me, pointed his surprisingly pointy nose in the air, crossed his bony arms over his chest and sneered, _"I hate your insides, Lily Evans, bane of my existence. Please get out of my sight. I would move myself but I am too above you in status that it's not worth the effort."_

He didn't say it in those exact words, but it was close enough.

"So… how was your summer?" I had asked politely, if I do say so myself. He turned his head from the shodding window, staring at me with his hazel eyes and raised brow with a cool mask on his face.

"Excuse me?"

"Your summer?"

"It was fine."

"Nothing special happened?"

"No."

"How's your mum?" I tried desperately. I had already started talking… I couldn't stop now. "My mum, apparently, lost faith in me over the summer and decided that I had too much rage inside of me so instead of giving me a talk like any good parent decided—"

Potter made a noise in the back of his throat; it sounded like annoyance, "Evans, you can drop the act alright."

"Act?" My voice sounded confused even to my own ears.

"This act. Like you can even stand to talk to me. Like you don't hate me and think I'm a bullying toerag and should stuff myself in the darkest corner I can find so your swotty eyes don't even have to touch me," he said, remarkably calm. "Honestly _Evans_, I thought you had a better memory than that."

And then he turned right back around and continued staring at the window.

I would be outraged right now, but I'm not supposed to care.

_11:30 AM_

Ellie just asked how my talk with Potter went.

_My talk with James Potter went well—if by well you mean terrible—and I am happy to be working with him—if by working with him you mean snapping his twiggy self in half and feeding it to the wolves—and quite frankly, Ellie, your concern for me is very touching but very unnecessary. _

"It was fine."

Sometimes I loathe myself.

_History of Magic  
2:04 PM_

It was in the midst of a crowded hallway. The younger students were hurrying to their next class, afraid of being late, while the older students took a slower pace dreading the coming day. I was feeling particularly self conscious, tucking my hair behind my ears, and clutching my bag tighter. He was coming towards me again, headed in the opposite direction. His warm eyes slid from student to student before resting on me. He smiles. A perfect smile—just enough teeth—even on both sides, a dimple in his right cheek. He smiles at me.

I can feel my breath catch. My surroundings turn into a hazy blur as he nears me. His smile never wavers. His arm brushes mine. Sleeve against sleeve. The smell of night and grass.

An electrifying feeling falls over me; every nerve in my body is tingling with anticipation. My lips quiver. I tuck my hair behind my ear again. I'm waiting… and he passes me. My surroundings come back into focus and my body relaxes.

_  
3:00 PM_

Why the Gods Love to Hate Me:

1. They love watching me suffer.

2. They love watching me suffer in the presence of James Potter and therefore they are making me spend every moment of my available time with him by manipulating Professor McGonagall into giving me this horrific project.

3. They have nothing better to do.

4. They couldn't resist picking on a girl whose genetics made her a walking holiday. Red and green—need I further explain?

5. It's not fun unless I'm in emotional turmoil.

6. And they really seem to love watching me suffer.

_Gryffindor Common Room  
8:00 PM_

At precisely 7 o'clock I found myself behind a row of bookcases in the dusty library desperately trying to hold in a sneeze. This was due to the fact that on the other side of this bookcase sat one James Potter and one Sirius Black engaged in a rather private conversation—one that I couldn't resist overhearing—while remaining oblivious to the world around them.

"—animagi? That's a little coincidental you know," Black hissed underneath his breath, and then sneezed. "Bloody dust—explain why you are in here anyway?"

"Evans," Potter put it simply, like it explained all… like I had _forced_ him to come to the library… like we both didn't agree to meet here to work on our project. I resisted the urge to chuck heavy books at him. Sirius made a definite derisive noise.

"Right. Do you think she's on to us?"

"Evans?"

"No, _McGonagall_, you nitwit," Sirius grubbed. He flipped noisily through a heavy book set on the table. "Look at all these books. Remus would probably have the best wank of his life sitting in here just staring at all the titles."

"I don't know," Potter muttered back, shoving his hand through his hair and making it stand on end again. I hate when he does that, I really do.

"You don't know about Remus and the wanking?"

"I don't know about _McGonagall_, you twat."

"Right... _Blimey! Look!_ It's Snivellus! What's he doing showing his face in public?" Black chortled, nearly wetting himself in excitement. He stood quickly nearly toppling his chair. Without another word to Potter he bounded away towards Snape's direction. Prat.

I suppose that's when I decided to make my grand entrance.

Or rather, that's when I accidentally knocked over the tower of books on a nearby table and caused everyone's head to whip my way. I had to pretend like I was just walking by a little too forcibly and knocked them off the table that way. Potter still looked at me suspiciously as I sat down.

"You're late," he whinged.

"Brilliant deduction Sherlock," I snapped back, "why don't you give me another?"

He gave me an annoyed look. "Let's just get this over with Evans."

I rolled my eyes. Honestly, he acts like we're mortal enemies now, which is ridiculous. So I insulted him a little; it was only one time and I had just gotten out of the Defense of Dark Arts O.W.L and it was my worst subject and Potter and his cronies and the whole bullying thing and—

Right. Whatever. Potter does not deserve as much time as it is taking to write this down.

"You can be such a giant prick sometimes," I growled. He gave me a lazy smirk. Infuriating little prat.

I slapped the folder McGonagall gave us on the desk, "Let's get started then. Animagi. _Animagi_. What do you know so far about the topic?"

"Not much," he drawled.

"Oh, I hardly believe that's the truth," I snorted.

He twitched. Like a rabbit. He fully twitched. Now I was intrigued. I hate to admit it but James Potter surpasses me in Transfiguration. Even I know a little about Animagi, so really, he should know more than I know... He really didn't have to act like I damned his mother thrice to hell _for heaven's sake_. His eyebrows had snapped together, creating a furry little caterpillar above his eyes which have narrowed considerably and turned darker. He leaned in, his expression dark.

"What are you implying?"

I would have found this hysterically funny if he wasn't giving me the most intense stare ever. This was getting a bit ridiculous but I really couldn't help going on the offense. My mother would have chalked it up to built up rage.

"Let it out darling! It's healthy!"

Ellie—she would have said I was suffering from first-year syndrome.

"Hair pulls and name calling... the expressions of love from the immature."

I... Well I maintain that he attacked me first.

"Nothing! I'm not implying anything," I spat. "Why do you insist on attacking me when I've done nothing to you?"

"That's right!" He laughed mockingly, "_Little Miss Lily_ can't have possibly done something wrong, can she? She's perfect! A prefect! Top witch in our year! Why, she thinks she's so good and pure and above everyone else! Oh, let me take points from you for tripping over a rock; it's against _my_ rules you know!"

I could feel my own eyes narrowing and my cheeks getting red. I was hot, flustered, and embarrassed and most importantly I was angry that he was making me hot, flustered and embarrassed.

"That's rich, coming from _you_. You hex a boy for giving you a bad look or—or even _daring_ to disagree with you on something. I suspect you keep Pettigrew around as your own little cheering section. _Oh Potter, you're so fine! You're great! How can anyone even dislike you, you're so amazing? _You think you're such an effing prodigy when you just get by on the fact that you're a great big Quidditch star from a rich old magical family."

He clenched his fists furiously and opened his mouth to retort, but then, suddenly, there were three of us. Sirius Black was hovering somewhere above my head and looking down on us in a way only Black can. His scraggly dark hair curled over his ears and square face thrust downwards in our direction, his grey eyes wide, eyebrow cocked, silly grin.

Sometimes he reminded me of a giant dog.

When he saw Potter his grin disappeared. His face slid into a rather grim expression and then into a cool mask. He turned and gave me the same cold fury look, his eyes glittering, turning a storm colour. A giant dog ready to tear me to pieces. I didn't need this. I didn't come to be attacked. I stood quickly, mirroring the haste of Black when he caught sight of his favourite victim. I snatched the folder and my book bag angrily slinging it over my shoulder.

"You know what Potter; I'm not going to take this. I'm leaving—we'll figure this out later."

"Leaving? My, that isn't very responsible of you, now is it?" he sneered.

"It is responsible because if I spend another moment with your arrogant arse-faced, Nancy boy self I don't know what I would be capable of. I hope you enjoy yourself when you look in the mirror, because that's the only sane person who would be willing to put up with your crap. What was it again? Oh yeah. _You make me sick_."

I strode out of there fury burning through my veins and Madam Prince glaring at me balefully like she can't believe I just insulted James Potter. (Or more likely because we were making a very loud ruckus in her usually tame library).

You know what? It _can't_ get any worse. This is the worst that it can get. I've hit rock bottom of rock bottom.

I think I liked it better when he wasn't speaking to me.

* * *


End file.
